Shattering Apart
by grannysknitting
Summary: SLASH. John returns after Lestrade is Roped In. Comfort ensues in the bedroom. SLASH


**Shattering Apart (Sherlock BBC Fanfic) Adult themed**

Set after 'Roped in'

November 19th, 20:12

Current Mood: bitchy

**Warning - sex scene (not too explicit)  
**0o0o0  
The flat was empty when he got home. True, he was a day earlier than he'd planned and he was absolutely exhausted because he'd pushed events so hard and fast in order to wrap up and get back to London and his lover who was more than a little distressed. DI Lestrade had texted him at regular intervals and Mrs Hudson had peppered him at various moments. He'd even had three from Mycroft and one from Donovan at one point.

The number of texts he'd had from Sherlock was incalculable. He'd responded to each one - though sometimes it had been only a one word answer - as it was his only way to reassure Sherlock that there had been no damage to their relationship, that they had not suffered an irretrievable misstep. Sherlock still wasn't answering his phone to John, for whatever reason. He'd left a few messages, though he wasn't confident they'd been listened to.

Mrs Hudson had met him at the door, fussing over him with relief. He'd reassured her that he was back for the conceivable future and she'd shooed him up the stairs with a distinctly maternal air. John had pulled his suitcase up the stairs, unpacked, re-organised and dragged himself into bed on the theory that Sherlock was out on a case. Either he'd come home in a few hours and want John's assistance - which meant that John would need all the sleep that he could get before that happened - or he'd come back in the morning. John was privately hoping for the morning - more sleep meant more energy which translated to being better able to cope with his spouses many moods.

John wakes because someone is watching him. The only thing that stops him from going for his gun before his eyes are even open is that the sensation is familiar. Sherlock is watching him. Sherlock is watching him intently.

Sure enough, he opens his eyes and Sherlock is standing in the doorway, staring at him as if unsure of what he sees. As if he can't quite believe that John is lying there in their bed, or had been sleeping in their bed only a few seconds ago. John reaches a hand out, not saying anything. He can see that Sherlock is skittish - when the other man is like this, its best to remain silent and rely on non verbal communication.

Sherlock slides into the room and onto the bed, taking John's hand and weaving his fingers through the doctors like it's some sort of sacred ritual. In the back of John's mind, a place he's learned to conceal from Sherlock's observational skills, rage at the absent Victor Trevor flares and is suppressed. None of that anger can be allowed to contaminate this moment, which in John's mind is all about Sherlock and this odd marriage they entered into only a few months ago. Once their fingers are entangled to his satisfaction he looks back at John and the doctor is glad that the rage he felt is so carefully hidden. The pain in Sherlock's eyes should not be met with John's anger.

He tugs, and Sherlock follows his pull down easily enough, sighing softly before accepting John's kiss. He keeps it simple and warm, trying to comfort and reassure rather than arouse. Sherlock shivers and some of the tension leaves his frame, folding him closer to John's warmth. Their fingers flex and tug against each other and John uses them to roll onto his back, pulling Sherlock over his body. His lover makes a pleased noise and John uses his free hand to card through the unruly black hair, absently noting that it had begun to rain before Sherlock got inside.

They kiss for a while and Sherlock's grip on his fingers loosens, becomes more affectionate and less desperate. John lets his hand wander to the back of Sherlock's neck, along his spine, fetching up with his fingers tucked into the waistband of his trousers. That earned him an approving noise and a lift of Sherlock's hips, as well as the last of the tension draining from the thin frame stretched over his own body.

Things get heated and John finally draws breath when they are both naked and lying on their sides, face to face. Hands are wandering greedily and John is pleased to see that the beginnings of Sherlock's surrender to pleasure are marking his face. The one place that Sherlock has never been able to deceive John is in their pleasure; John counts it as one of his greatest successes in their relationship. The kisses have moved from comforting to passionate and John teases Sherlock further along the curve of pleasure as his lover prepares himself for their mutual pleasure.

When Sherlock is panting with need, shaking with want, desire trembling in half formed words between their kisses, John rolls them both so Sherlock is on his back, hips propped on pillows. He takes his time with the entry, wanting it to be as pleasurable for his spouse as it is for him. Sherlock wraps one hand around John's biceps, the other over a thigh, his legs akimbo as John moves gently within him. He presses their foreheads together, watching carefully as Sherlock tips closer and closer towards that point - the point where he surrenders to their lovemaking, steeping his incredible brain in pleasure instead of crime.

When he sees that surrender, that acceptance of the physical love that John is offering him, as well as the emotional connection they have forged together outside of their bed, John picks the pace up, moving smoothly against the man writhing slowly beneath him, rendering the longest interval of sweet pleasure that he can manage, watching the wholly addictive sight of Sherlock accepting his offering, eventually shattering apart with it.

His own pleasure is a distant afterthought as Sherlock arches taught and then slowly, gradually relaxes, falling still and quiet. John is used to this too and rolls them once more, slipping free and allowing Sherlock to twine around him, coming to rest in what John was beginning to think of as their usual post coital positions.

Tomorrow Sherlock would tell him all about his revenge and the latest case. For now, John was content to allow the Limpet to resurface, tucking his spouse comfortably close to his side and allowing the afterglow to tug him into sleep. Tonight was for comfort and reconnection.

END

Disclaimer: characters and setting as depicted in Sherlock BBC series not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine.


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